


Memory of a Queen

by HeahmundAndIvar (bvckybcrnes)



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Light Angst, M/M, Prayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 01:06:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13353276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bvckybcrnes/pseuds/HeahmundAndIvar
Summary: Heahmund learns about one of Ivar's deepest secrets...





	Memory of a Queen

Secured firmly in seven thick locks that run from his hairline, over his scalp and down to the nape of his neck. It had been a while since Ivar even thought about cutting his hair short again, so he sought for alternatives and only tended to the sides of his head, those parts he liked to keep as short as possible. It used to be easier when his mother was still around to help Ivar take care of himself. He would let her do so, because he knows she enjoys it so much. Ever moment spent with her son undoubtedly always must’ve been Aslaug’s favourite part of her days.

He could still hear her voice, even after all these months. He could still recall the way she looked, every single detail of it. The colour of her hair, no other head could compare - no other texture ever had that same bright, royal glow as the beautiful soft locks Ivar used to play with so often when he was just a child. The kind look in her eyes, Ivar would never find it in any other pair of eyes - and that voice as sweet as honey, it made the young prince hang his head a little. 

He sat on his own, as Ivar did so often. Only, not everyone could and would see him like this. Hvitserk, his brother, perhaps is the only one who can ever gaze upon Ivar the Boneless like this. But even now, Hvitserk was nowhere to be seen...

It was only Ivar, his thoughts and the presence of the divine. Ivav sat on the wooden floor of the hut he’d claimed for his own upon their arrival in this small village. The inhabitants were allied with King Harald, making unnecessary bloodshed something that was easily avoided for the time being. He’d settled down next to a wooden box he had turned upside down so it could serve as a makeshift altar during their stay in this village, waiting for the next full moon. On top of the box stood two candles, a tall one and one that was almost done for. Ivar had gathered bits of dried apple in a bowl and during his waiting time, he had carved a few statues from pieces of wood he had found. They represented three gods, two men and a lady. Ivar knew who they were, as would anyone else. In his lap laid wooden coins, not any thicker than a finger and roughly the size of the palm of his hand. Ivar had cut them from a large branch and now used them to carve symbols into the wood. 

The prince, seemingly lost in thought, had no attention for the rustling around him. It was their prisoner, Bishop Heahmund, who had entered the small hut and when he saw Ivar was carried away in what seemed to be something alike to prayer, he chose to let the pagan practice his own...peculiar ways. Heahmund did not speak up about it. He had respect for it, somehow. A man in prayer must not be disturbed. With that thought in mind, the bishop chose to wander around the area to find his spot in this scenery, although he could not help but cast the pagan a look from time to time. Lead by his curiosity, Heahmund both wondered what Ivar the Boneless was praying for - and which heathen god he was praying to this time. 

Eventually, the Bishop took his place at the table that stood in the center of the room and he took a seat on the acompanying bench. He sat behind Ivar, however. He did not want to disturb a man in prayer, not even a pagan. 

Hands folded in his lap, Bishop Heahmund watched how he rubbed his own thumbs against each other while he listened to the scraping of Ivar’s knife over the wood of the coins he was working on. Every now and then, Heahmund would look up and watch how the boy carved these symbols the Bishop had learned to know as ‘runes’ into the wood. He wondered what they mean, an explanation still unclear to the Saxon warrior. He might ask about them one time, or perhaps not. Even when he could not accept the pagan ways of Ivar the Boneless, Heahmund also felt that he could not completely disrespect the man’s religion either. And thus he sat in silence, keeping the Viking quiet company while Ivar the Boneless prayed to the Lady Freyja in memory of his sweet, sweet mother, and how he prayed to the Allfather in memory of the father and the brother he had lost - and how he would attempt to reach Heimdallr, who watches over all to hear about his mentor, Floki the boat builder.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://heahmundandivar.tumblr.com/) for more!


End file.
